


Mud

by apliddell



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergent, Domestic Bagginshield, Fluff, M/M, Shire AU, Thorin gardens, bagginshield, baths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 12:09:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17344982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apliddell/pseuds/apliddell
Summary: Thorin is certainly not going to be allowed to track mud all over the kitchen, not if Bilbo has anything to say about it!





	Mud

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheBoredWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBoredWriter/gifts).



> My thanks to dear Kate for the prompt.

“One moment, please,” said Bilbo from the stove in a tone that made Thorin stop short on the doorstep, nearly stumbling to keep himself from stepping over the back door threshold. “Where do you think you’re going?”

 

Thorin looked about him as if the correct answer might be neatly written on one of Bilbo’s pristine kitchen walls, “I was going to put the potatoes in the cellar.” He hefted the basket on his arm. “But I am beginning to suspect I won’t be allowed to.”

Bilbo crossed the room, took the basket and hung it on a peg near the door, “Off with those filthy boots first before you do something unspeakable to my kitchen floor.”

Thorin obediently shed his boots and made to enter the kitchen again but Bilbo’s expression held him where he was, “Yes?”

“You’re  _all_ filthy,” said Bilbo with a decisive shake of the head. “This won’t do. Come in, but do keep yourself to the mat while I get things ready.” 

Thorin stepped carefully onto the mat and pulled his muddy tunic to him so that it wouldn’t drip on the floor and get them both in trouble, “Things?” 

 

Bilbo didn’t answer. He was busy readying. He flitted back and forth through the kitchen, arranging a screen and a big copper tub near the stove and stoking up the fire so that it blazed cheerfully. Bilbo shouldered a cauldron and stepped past Thorin, making for the pump. 

 

“Let me help you,” Thorin offered, reaching for the cauldron but keeping still to the mat. 

“Never mind; I have it,” Bilbo bumped his hips lightly against Thorin’s as he passed, and indeed he was back in a twinkling with the brimming cauldron in his arms. Bilbo set the cauldron on the stove and went into the passage, toward the bedroom. 

 

Bilbo returned carrying two lovely, knobbly towels, a pair of stripey pyjamas that looked vast in his arms, house shoes, and a handsome blue dressing gown. He draped the clothing over the screen to warm and propped the house shoes on the hearth, then fetched out a canvas sack from under the sink and turned to Thorin. 

“Strip!” Bilbo shook the sack. “Dirty things in here, please.”

“Hmm you are very,” Thorin paused to find his words as he tucked his tunic, leggings, and hose into the sack. 

“Clean!” said Bilbo smartly. “Linen also; you may as well.” 

“Imperious,” Thorin finished, stepping out of his linen with a little blush. 

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Bilbo gave Thorin a quick pat on his backside and kissed his shoulder, which was as high up as his mouth could reach without ungainly tiptoes entering the picture. 

“But the kitchen! The crockery can see me. Things will never be the same between me and the kettle.” 

 

Bilbo chuckled and went to fetch the cauldron from the fire. He tipped half the steaming water into the tub and nodded for Thorin to follow it. Thorin finally left the mat and stepped into the tub. He sank down into the hot water at the bottom of the tub, wincing and sighing at the heat, then gasping when Bilbo poured a little more of the water over his broad shoulders. 

 

Bilbo fetched the soap and the nail brush from the sink, “If you’ll manage your fingernails, I can look after  _most_  of the rest of you.” 

Thorin laughed and accepted the nailbrush, “You will tell me which parts of me you won’t be managing?”

 

Bilbo turned up his sleeves and dipped the soap into the hot water pooled between Thorin's knees to lather it up. Thorin leaned back in the tub and Bilbo ran gentle lathery hands over his chest, shoulders, belly, groin. Bilbo kissed Thorin's cheek just where his beard turned to smooth skin and began to unbraid Thorin's hair. Thorin leaned back with a sigh and shut his eyes when Bilbo began to massage his scalp. 

 

“There now, isn’t that better?” Bilbo murmured near Thorin's ear.

Thorin chuckled without opening his eyes, “When did I give you the impression that I object to bathing?”

Bilbo drew back and poured the rest of the hot water over Thorin’s back, “I didn’t say you object to bathing; I said you must be feeling better now you’re not caked with mud.” 

“Caked is a strong word,” Thorin sank a little deeper into the water. 

Bilbo kissed his temple, “Are you ready to come out and dress? We have not had our supper yet. There’s cottage pie in the oven.” 

“Mmm,” Thorin reached for Bilbo’s hand. “Not yet. It is nice to sit still, is it not?”

Bilbo leaned down to kiss their joined hands, “It is.” 


End file.
